Torn
by writerworld123
Summary: Mr.Gold is sailing home from Neverland- unscathed by the Prophecy and is more than eager to hold Belle once more. However, he did not think that in those brief days of his journey; so much could blossom between his beauty Belle and the Frankenstein... There is nothing far more frightening than a jealous Dark One. (ON HIATUS)
1. The end has just begun

She was rearranging her books; the dozen she had. Subtly plucking them one by one, tending them in her hands like a small child before selecting a spot on a shelf, then straying back to admire it like the child was tucked In their bed. If there was such a being destined for being a librarian, it was indeed Belle. Her quirks, wits, and dry lashes of the tongue were shockingly repulsive and remarkably erotic to Victor in the same spell.

It was a wordless enigma whatever it was that Belle cast upon him, and he figured if in fact a woman was capable of bewitching him like so, he would not dally about wondering how. Victor adjusted his throat, snapping the enchanted librarian from her pleasuring task to stare up at . Natural lighting of the sun bled into her eyes, reflecting the royal blue like a sun set on steady water.

"Dr. Whale, what do I have the honor?" She politely asked, too polite, to indicate the evidently guessed sarcasm, before turning away to proceed in tucking her books in.

Victor's tongue swelled in his mouth, and it was though a translucent force was restricting his logic to project any human gesture. It was her. She was accomplishing what no woman had among Whale and beyond.

She was making him nervous, very, very, nervous.

"I… I would wish to ask you o-on, I mean, ask something to you, I mean, of you." Belle rose to her feet, all traces of her altering personage of Lacey vanquished and retreated to a refined and conservative cotton dress; complimenting her frame charmingly.

"It ought to be worth mine and your time, seeming you ventured all the way from the hospital." She declared, meekly; _Is she expecting this? Surely someone has beautiful as her, a man asking for her hand, let alone a date isn't anything new of the sort._

And she had a point, the minutes of his sparing lunch break were ticking; he best return to his hectic task of a career with something to look forward to. "I want to tell you that… I … um.. feel quite good around you. And, and, not just in a manner of physically, I feel warm and not just in my pants-I, I mean-!" Belle was smiling, beaming, her cheeks bloomed in a healthy pink blush.

Whale captured the nape of his neck with his hand, heart ranging by one intense throb to the next. "Would you like to go on a date with me? Tonight?" Her smile drifted off her pretty face.

"It's only been a few short months." Her voice lilted in hurt, and Whale's heart sank deeply into his chest. Gold, Regina, Hook, and the Charmings had all ventured into a port in seeking Gold's grandson. Something of a prophecy was whispered heavily among the town, all culminated with wishful thinking that Regina and Hook would be terminated with his ill fate.

Whale didn't have much of a care for either parties, or whatever matter they were in be that.

But, he did have a mind towards the Dark One intruding his chance in professing this newborn feelings for Belle. Feelings… something Whale never mastered and only progress was drowning them down with one shot of whiskey to another.

But, he did not long for numbness now- he wanted comfort, and not any warm comfort of a woman's flesh. He wanted Belle's- pale, delicate, with those luster curls to rake his fingertips through.

His body responded in the clouding of the daydream, but, he had to get this bloody answer before anything of the sort could happen.

Her lip was suckled in her mouth, an adorable notion she did when pondering her many, many, curious and astoundingly fruitful thoughts. Wonder like a child and wisdom of an old goddess.

"Why not now if not ever?" Whale blurts, and his mind kicks itself for how ridiculously insensitive and not to mention not sensible it was.

Belle didn't seem to mind though; her softness melting off the smoldering of her cheeks and eyes.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Let's fetch some granny's dinner, then eat on by the docks." Whale's confidence was inflating by the moment to her sudden interest. With a small smile, she nodded and Whale cautioned his words from illustrating too much of a womanizing ego.

"Wine or beer?"

Her nose pruned up, "Gods, neither, Lacey drank me out like a demented sailor."

Here she hitched up a crate empty of books and started towards the back room as Whale watched her posture of walking that could only be of a princesses grace. "So, tea it is?" Whale called and her head poked in through the doorframe, smiling- "Iced"

* * *

Rumples POV.

"I cannot believe you're riding this thing three years before me" Neal sighed, and Henry gripped the ships wheel wearing a full grin. "Early bloomer" Henry said and Neal rustled his bangs lightly before Emma, observing from afar, walked over to smooth his hair back in place.

Neal tugged her by the wrist to his side before snatching a kiss from her lips. Henry produced a gagging noise before Neal playfully scolded him to keep steering.

Rumplestiltskin was sprawled across one of the ships beds below, centering himself on breathing in utter disbelief to his survival on what seemed an eternal journey.

From the survival of the seer's prophecy (which notably was not death- but indeed the unraveling of his curse) to the baring of being in – despite his own blood- the royal presence of Regina and the Charmings.

And the mongrel of a pirate he ignored with all his will and chance on what was thought to be his doomed expedition. The reveal of his son's still beating heart, the swerve of his damned fate; Rumple simply wished for a long nap.

Then Belle, his warm, darling, angelic Belle. A warmth cradling his insides sprouted up within him to imagine him seeing her and her seeing him. Indeed, the departure had fueled his heart fonder- though he figured it was a metaphor for thought, because he couldn't consider he could love Belle anymore than his entire being did already. He indeed, could afford rest now- just to shave off time till seeing his love.

* * *

"Cheers… to… tonight!" Whale offered a clink to his Styrofoam cup of unsweetened tea, and Belle held hers midway in sincere thought to her own toast. "Cheers to tonight and to tomorrow and to love." Whale snorted on the ending bit, before Belle knocked his cup with hers and dunk it back- strikingly in "Lacey" style.

That cursed person certainly lived in the hidden depths of her. And Whale was aching to read what else was lurking beneath that milky complexion.

"Well said" He complimented and Belle picked a fry from the weaver basket between them.

Their supper consisted of Granny's finest delectable's of Cuban subs (Belle oddly declined burgers), sweet fries, mountain berry cake, and of course the two iced teas- one sweet with lemon wedge and one unsweet with a pinch of cream.

"The moon is out" Belle noted, taking a nip of her fry then chewing thoughtfully.

Whale studied the woman, hair tussled in the biting wind of a classic Maine night; he had no surge to pounce her lovely body, or take her between his sheets like a hound rules a bitch.

He simply wanted to hold her hand, tight. He wanted her in his arms for all hours of the night and any sparing moment in the day; so the moon could kindly coward within the stars because Belle seem to outshine them all in one glorious starlight.

And they haven't even finished their first date meal.

"Is there something on my face?" She questioned with a creasing forehead, and it pinched Whale's droning gaze to reality.

"Nothing but pretty skin" Whale murmured, and though vague in the washed out blue of the moonlight, Whale could practically feel her skin flushing up once more.

"Oddest reply I have ever received" Belle mumbled into her iced tea, and Whale starred into his own untouched cup and heaved through his nostrils.

Belle blinked, "Why did you want to go out with me tonight? For what reason besides the obvious ones I could already guess."

Still peering into his cup, Whale clipped a smile - just for her.

"I heard you were a good friend of monsters" Though true, in the answering of her question it was a lie. Indeed it's what he heard, but, the truth burned his tongue like hot silver, and he coward away in startle to confess.

Perhaps it was the Dark One from afar, sensing a "predator" among his angel. As Whale knew how aptly that description would be of him to .

Belle scooted in closer to him, and for the flutter of a moment, Whale though she'd kiss him.

She only looped him in a bear hug

Whale took the advantage to rummage his fingers through her hair. When straying back she gleamed directly into his eyes, "I have yet to unveil anything monstrous of the sort from a man who does nothing but heal and save lives." Belle insists, _God, I hope she isn't too naïve for her own good._

Whale brushed wisps of her curls invading her lovely face out of the way. "You should hear what lives I destroyed before though" and Belle's expression wore a bizarre shade between genuine and sympathy now before whispering: "I want to hear everything."


	2. Traces Of You

"Black; like your heart" Belle handed Whale a Tall cup of Granny's coffee and he scoffed at her cheeky remark- despite if he was smiling fully in the face. Just from having her in his presence on a slummy morning of gushing rain and irritable thunder.

"No ice in your tea today Miss French—have you gone through a dietary epiphany?" Belle nudged his shin from beneath the table with her rain boot.

"I think I've gotten enough ice for one morning" She muttered awhile motioning to the thin traces of hail in her deflated curls. Lack of humidity must'v drank up all the luster of her hair; though the apples of her cheeks are still licked with a fair red blush.

"Not a bad notion; the crap in tea grinds the enamel off your teeth like a razor blade." Belle could not dismiss the smile from her lips of admiration to all the knowledge he harbored in his shut up world, and the abundance of questions she'd be able to ask him due time.

"Well, do you think it's not too late to save me from dentures?" Belle questioned, flashing her teeth like a canine would to appear superior. Whale tilted his head, "I'm no dentist, but, I'd say you got about five to ten years." He casually diagnosed this before taking a sip of his coffee.

Belle's jaw popped open and nudged him from below once more. "No worries Miss French, perhaps could donate his golden molars to you."

It was quip, but, he suddenly felt as though he was choking on his foot. Belle's dynamic features grew shallow in exhaustion to the mentioning of her love- and where he may be as of now.

In the depths of the sea for all she knew, but, she refused to let those thoughts make themselves at home in her conscience.

"I, uh, I am sorry" Whale croaked, rubbing the edges thin of his newspaper between his fingers.

Belle fought till she won a small smile on her lips, "Let me walk you to work."

Whale broke from pretending to read the newspaper to stare at her like a stranger offering all the answers to his life.

"I would love it" Whale murmured, rising to his feet and Belle rose with him, gathering her non-enamel corroding hot chocolate.

. . .

The hospital

Nurses are weary and irritable as of today- much like the thunder, except this is rubbing off on the patients. Even the out cold ones are twitching and protruding muscle spasms in their coma-like states.

After clocking in, Whale escorts Belle to his office- and Whale notes how her baby blue rain boots contrast vibrantly to the dull gray carpet that bled into the dull gray walls.

Her scarf and gloves sport the same sky color- and above all her attire: it's the precise tone of her eyes. She plummets into the sofa before his desk that he seats himself behind.

"Am I patient now?" Belle wonders aloud, and Whale jaw tenses for whatever it was she did to him was on point as of now. Him and her, alone, in a cooped up little office with nothing but each other's company to indulge in.

And by gods did he fathom indulging in her on more occasions that his pride would even let him admit to himself.

But, she wasn't a doll or object of one secluded purpose to him—he wanted everything from within as he would ever be so graced to know from the outside.

"Doctor, is there something wrong?" She whispered, propping her elbows on his desk, leaning inward. Her body scent spoiled his senses in the delectable perfume, and his blood hurried along south.

She spoke of more, but, he could not hear past seeing her eyes prompt on his lips and she knew he saw this, and it was pooling the insides of his lips with drool to taste her.

His manhood was also peeking through his formal slacks.

"Why you're blushing?" Belle comments, her hand reached forward to run along his flustering cheeks.

"I, I, have work Belle and I know you have the library to open." Belle's heavily turned on zeal deflated in moments to that.

He hoped in all his might that she wasn't feeling a stab of rejection- he hoped with the avid reader she was she'd be able to read within his longing eyes, simmered in want, for her lovely self that he was doing this for her.

She nodded, fondling with her hands in her lap for a brief second then propping away from his desk to stand.

"I'll see you later?" The erotic trance she was signaling had evaporated from her being entirely, she was meek now with a warm grin that only whispered "friendship."

Whale, and he simply nodded as if it were for dismissal. With that, Belle was swept away from his presence.

Whale lounged back into his revolving chair, and did a little spin in it, watching all the damning gray swirl before him.

When he anchored the chair with his shoe, he was centered before Belle's abandon cup of coco- the edge sporting a vibrant red print of her lips.

Whales blood conjured the so rightfully wrong notion once more, and urged Whale to stiffen in all regions of his body.

This was utterly pathetic. Among all the women he bedded in his lifetime, he didn't understand how a nonchalant smear of lipstick was heating him like a hot-blooded beast. Beast.

He wondered whether Gold and Belle ever made love. Whether he ever caressed her like she was made of glass; kissed her lips like he didn't need breath, and held her in his eyes as if he'd go blind in the state of never seeing her again.

Whale knew he would

And indeed, if that's what he vowed to love her by- it only be apt that any particle of her, even her rose red smudges would enchant him.

_" there is an emergency in room R6- critical condition of blood loss; this is an emergency."_

Whale, still starring at the cup, gathered it in his hand before dunking the remains down and storing the Styrofoam cup in the very top drawer of his desk.

* * *

"You'd think with all the awesome magic, your land would at least have a Cinnabun Dad." Henry critically noted before delving into another fudge stuffed crape.

Meal hours on the ship always diverged in the same fashion every day. Henry, Neal, and Emma would be seated at the table before the spread awhile Charming and Snow ate from the far end beside one another.

Regina would remain in above deck after fixing a plate without physically going below to fix it, Gold rarely ate, and Hook would wait until everyone vacated the table to nip out whatever remains were left.

And with the bosom souls the Charming were, Snow always concocted a surplus of food so even Henry- with an innocent tendency to be a glutton, especially for breakfast pastries, couldn't scarf it all up.

This morning was crapes, turf in fudge and sliced thorn berries.

"_You_ would think with someone coming from a long blue blood line of royalty, you'd have the decency to wipe your face fudge boy!" Neal remarked, awhile Emma and the Charmings all shared a hoot of laughter and Regina cringed from above deck at the pitiful sound.

Gold finally accomplished that nap, though, he couldn't pin point the timing- it was quite enough.

His neck was dewy in sweat, and his entire being was flushed and stiff from marinating in the same position throughout what he guessed was mid noon till this morning.

He loosened his collar and tie, discomforted in the suffocation of his own body heat. And another discomfort that he had dismissed despite it's plea, was one he imagined he could no longer tame anymore: hunger.

He was fully capable of whipping something up in the palm of his hand, but, seeming they were navigating through portals- magic was merely impossible to conjure.

He also figured it was time to attempt an interaction with Neal. Their second reunion was even sweeter than the first, he had prevailed something to his boy- his bravery.

The duty of obligation he lived up to as his father. It was a time of treasuring that engraved in the Dark one's heart to remember.

But, that didn't by any means signal a white flag between him and his child. There is matter's of the past yet to be confronted, and though Rumple was willing he was feeding upon himself with guilt.

For, despite if Rumple is wholly devoted to his son… he could not shake his mind from Belle.

What she was doing, where was she, what was she thinking of? Was she reading, drinking each word in like soil gulping rain water. Was she lonely? Were her books enough to fulfill the hours between her sleeping and wake? Was there someone keeping her fulfilled in those hours?

The scenario of another man captivating Belle, wringing her in his arms and loving her in all the deserving ways Rumple knew he failed to do… did not anger him.

No, no, that was a lie.

He did not know what the thought did to him- because he never allowed himself to drag it out long enough to know.

No matter her hope, she was not a fool and understood the potential of him never to return to her—and he wished nothing more than her to awake each morning with comfort and content... no matter what it meant for it.

At least he knew that's what philosophy he _should_ stand by.

That didn't mean his heart didn't swell at the thought of her with another.

Perhaps because he knew, in the hundreds of years in aging- in the best and most blood lusted versions of himself, there was no doubt that the Dark One- man or not- was a** jealous** creature.

The Charmings laughter died off like Rumple was a cobra entering the room. He hobbled over on his cane to Neal and Neal appeared… pleased.

"Top of the morning Papa" Neal murmured to his father, standing to wrap him in a grand bear hug. Emma handed Henry a napkin to wipe his chocolate dotted chin, and Snow and Charming- arms in arms, both admired the father-son moment.

"Uh… good morning son" Rumple murmured, gripping his backside with the arm not hosting him up.

"Did you sleep well?" Rumple then asked, hoping he was not further pressing his luck to rejoicing with Bae.

Bae beamed up at him, "Yeah, real well, ship rocked me to sleep like an infant, I see you did too, out cold for a solid twelve hours." Him and Emma both gleamed at each other, silently exchanging an insider Rumple supposed.

"Are you hungry Papa?"

Rumplestiltskin loathed the dampness of tears on his cheeks, but, having Bae end almost every sentence with 'Papa' was simply asking for it.

"Nonsense, I just need some coffee" Rumple rubbed the water that stood in his eyes like he was scrubbing sleep from them.

Neal presented a mug before him and Rumple seated himself in the usual seat of Charming, but, before taking a sip he tensed up and starred with a merely agonizing look in his eyes at the cup.

That cobra silence happened once more

"Papa?" Neal whispered, and Rumple fluttered his eyes in an attempt to not crumble.

"I, uh, may I see a napkin please?" And Neal nodded in hurry, fumbling around to hand his papa a cloth.

Rumple thanked him too softly like it was deadly, and starred down at the cup, clutching the red cloth in his hands…. Like the perfected red shade of lipstick smeared on the mug before him.

He could not wipe it off, and when it became apparent that Rumple had no intentions of steering away from his heart wrenching moment; Neal escorted Emma and Henry (who took a crape with him) above deck with Snow and Charming hustling after.

Rumple let the cloth slip from his finger tips, shoved the mug with all the "Belle" stained upon it, and wept in thoughts of those long lost lips.


	3. Somethings been planted

Whale awoke to his nurse with an irritable foot, tapping like a rabbit thumping it's hind leg. He rose his cheek from his desk, and starred up with little care to be known on his face.

"It's past the end of my shift, and I can't clock out until you confirm so" Wanda mutters, and Whale would've rolled his eyes if his skull wasn't beating like a second heart was inside of it.

Wanda bustled out of his office door with a flick of his hand, in which he used to grind the sleep from his eyes.

He was oblivious to how long he was asleep, though he assumed quite long, with it being a night shift nurse being past her clocking hour.

His first thought was pondering what Belle had done today, however, his thoughts were disturbed when he noticed the mounds of paperwork before him. All blank and pitiful looking to just how much he had to do, with a whole day to do so.

Daring to peek at his watch, it read almost eleven at night. The doctor supposed with his four and half hour nap, he ought to pull a grave shift to complete the task at hand.

But, he wanted to see Belle

Filing his procrastinated work in a fine and untouched stack, he propped his top drawer open; the little cup on it's side and waiting for him.

Her fair red lip stain was still fresh on the edge, and he was tender not to let his finger smudge it. The brief moment became Whale studying the little mark for as long as his neck began to protest with a tooth-ache like pain.

Whale wanted to knowledge himself of the precise contours of those lips, and fathom them against his own. He rose the cup to his nostrils, and took a hideously loud whiff.

Nothing but the smell of cheap Styrofoam and faint chocolate. He was suddenly gravely in depth with whether surprising Belle at this hour was spontaneous or flatly rude.

He decided he'd do it either way

* * *

Coffee and rum comes up a rather unsavory color than being washed down. Mr. Gold masters this in an distasteful way as he gather's his reddened face from his waste bucket.

Hook was tending to steering duty, awhile the Charmings slept soundly in their bunked cots—Emma and Neal claimed the separate room reserved for the captain only to themselves. Awhile Henry was carried to invade the space between Snow and Charming for the night.

The Gods only knew where Regina vanquished to in the nights; essentially with the strengthening energy to fuel magic was arising with sailing closer to Storybrooke with each small- though to Rumple eternal- moment.

Gold had his shins kicked more than a wee bruise could say in his lifetime. Yet, he could never recall feeling as lousy as he did tonight.

He only reminisced one period in his long years he ever relied on a bottle of rum so heavily- and the same woman causing it now was held liable for it.

He still had the same flask- engraved with a solid gold R. Though cooping himself in his slummy hole of a room was a comfort, he couldn't bare the stench. A stentch concocted of his own regurgitated rum and bile; not to mention his suit clinging to his skin that by the dew of his sweat.

He needed organic air, but, a scum of a pirate was claiming his only entrance to fresh air. Air that seemed such a luxury as of above deck now.

_To bloody hell with it_

Gold hobbled up upon deck; the stars are in a radiant bloom of silver as of tonight. The sea like a massive mirror, stretching the twinkling heavens from above to shine upon it for ripples beyond.

Killian's hair is sloshing about like the water lapping along the ship, awhile his ridiculous eyeliner smoked heavily from the consistent scratching of his eyes with his knuckles- in which sported murky black streaks.

In secrecy, Gold always wondered where the hell did he take the time to apply it. Seeming he never once had seen the mongrel without the feminine touch.

"Come above for a swim mate?' Hook wondered aloud, and Gold drank in the salted air heavily, turning to the pirate, hands folded upon the head of his cane.

"I simply needed some fresh air, below the deck of your ship is like sleeping in an ogres armpit." Gold scowled, though his tone was even, for he was at calm with the cooling wind soothing his scalp and neck.

Killians jaw flexed as though Gold just insulted one of his children, though, the captain was also too much at ease from the singing waves to fuel his irritability to lash back.

"That lass back at home, you suppose she's waiting alone in her bed for you?" Killian wonders aloud, and Rumple blinks at the pirate, feeling as though his words were climbing upon his shoulders-heavily.

"If there's anything to question about Belle, it's certainly would not be her fidelity." Rumple heaves, his voice is clipped in his thoughts wallowing into the depths of fear.

Trust the mongrel of a pirate to be the one to pluck at the one thought he wished to keep buried.

"Forgive me, but, I believe it's not fidelity if she believes you are _dead_." Killian pipes, and Rumple's palm seems to itch with the cane consuming his fist.

"Don't fret mate, I'm sure you're doing a favor; ridding her of the beas-"

"That is quite enough!" Rumple whispers, feeling his hobble charging him towards where the unfazed pirate stood. "No troubles for her I suppose." Killian babbles stupidly on, and Rumple cannot wait for him to tug the last of his nerves to strike him.

"That lass seems to have a habit of liking monsters… don't suppose that doctor fancies her little virginal bloomers eh-_ah_!"

The last nerve was struck

Rumple's cane lashed his mouth in a swift hitch. The twinge of power coursed from within, surfacing to Rumple's fingertips: magic.

Though Rumple's magic was untamed from lack of use, and in the midst of his empowerment, a bolt of silver descends Killian over board.

The Dark one within Rumple awakened in triumph, seeing the pirate as a small figure in the vast blackness of the sea, gurgling for dear life.

Triumph died off when realizing whom would discover which hands Killian's blood stained: Baelfire. Rumple could not bare letting him down, not so hastily, and certainly not over a bloody mongrel of a pirate.

"Hook, fetch this!" Rumple hollered, tossing a life raft off deck, and it plummets a mere foot from where Killian hobbled in lapping of waves. The surge of enchantment had abandon Rumple, as he was feeble in conjuring anything of enchantment from his fingertips once more.

In the midst of his struggle, Rumple spied three figures emerging on the moonlit horizon: mermaids.

"Hurry, hurry, Killian!" Rumple cried out, but, the mermaids tales motored them far more quickly than Rumple could protrude his voice.

In moments of plea, Killian is dragged beneath the trenches of the sea, by the force of delicate white hands.

As Rumple hobbles away, he realizes his cane had gone amiss with the life raft over board- descending his weakling being onto the musty wood flooring of the ship.

"Hook!" Baelfire's voice hollers from below deck, and Rumple allows his head to falter- anticipating the witnessing of his failure to his son.

"Papa!" Baelfire gasps, kneeling before his father's wallowing body. "Hook… hook's gone, I-I tried to save him" Rumple whispers, and Emma hurries along past the two in taking the reins of the steering wheel.

"It's all my fault" Rumple trembles, and Baelfire gathers his father up by the elbow, allowing him to pursue all his weigh among him.

"Don't fret papa, it'll be alright," Rumple's brows touch at the bridge of his nose; not comprehending all the tenderness his son was granting upon him under his circumstance.

Bae carriages him below deck to where Rumple presumed was him and Emma's bedroom. "Wait here" Baelfire murmurs, and Rumple hobbles over onto the bed, panting with a regurgitating churn inside.

"Here" Bae, reappears in the door frame, presenting the raw mahogany stick of a cowardly spinner from ages ago.

"You still have it?" Rumple whispers in awe, gathering it within his hand.

"Yeah, I guess fate knew it'd come in handy eventually." Rumple gleams up at his boy, who's cheeks tint hot at the silence, and eventually escorts his Papa back to his room for rest.

After pacing in his room for a fine minute, Rumple simply could not rid himself of that blasted pirate's taunt.

"_Fancy that doctor…"_ Damn Whale, all his wit and neanderthal instincts, and in that same delusional notion, feeling qualified in provoking his Belle with such lusty tactics.

The thought of Killian wallowing into the depths of the sea, water clouding his lungs, made Rumple sneer in delight.

Even so, in the affair of Killian's riddance, his words did not seem to die with him. They lived on to echo in those buried thoughts Rumple felt he could no longer muffle.

* * *

Belle was just as she conventionally was these days: in the library and alone. She was feeble in reading the lengthy Greek mythological tale of _Homer: Odysseus's Return Home. _

Seeming her tears, drip by pitiful drip, were staining the pages in the salt of her eyes, and the thoughts of Rumpelstiltskin bleeding in each one.

Closing the novel she barely got through the first sonnet of; she lied her cheek on the leather cover. She readied herself for the horrendous sob jerking out of her chest.

"Oh Rumple" she whispered to herself, then clenching her eyes till another tear eased itself along the slope of her nose.

"I miss you…so much" it felt as though her supply of oxygen had evaporated, and the heavy flutter of her heart was lifting her weightless from her desk.

She couldn't stir a move, her hair knitted in her fingers as she ruggedly pulled the curls by the root.

"Belle?"

The pained librarian couldn't decipher it was Whale at that precise moment; only the startle that there was another's presence witnessing her weeping, over whether or not she may have a reason to mourn.

"I… just… um" Belle loathed babbling and tripping over her own thoughts. Though Whale just happened to intrude when she was on point with both of those ticks.

She stood from her desk, gathering the novel in her hands, and stalking over to snub the book in a random location – no tender evaluation as to where to tuck it in. Whale consumed this as something had gone terribly wrong.

"Why are you here Wha-"

"Victor" Whale corrected, and Belle didn't let her eyes hold him, only her back.

"It's awfully late, and I want to sleep" she attempted to cleanse her voice, but, it was raw in an unattractive state of hoarseness.

"Belle" Victor whispered, and the warm whisper delights Belle, especially as she felt it, him, closing in on her louder and still softly in the same breath.

"You're strong Belle" his lips were caressing the shell of her ear, and his arms greeted her waist with a tight cradle from behind.

"Wha- Victor… I.. am so.. " she wept, and Victor's knees seem to melt weak; she was his weakening him. Her devastation was a dagger, shredding down his body in a clean tare.

Still cradling her, she turned her cheek nearly to face him, noses touching at the tip.

Her lip was bitten in, eyes matching the red blush of her cheeks. She bestowed a look of sheer wonder, and apprehension in awaiting something to be released in her eyes.

Victor drank in having her lips ever so close to his. "Victor?" she whispered, and his eyes were prone with aching lips to feel the warm greeting of her own.

"Victo-

Before Belle could breathe, he was stealing that breath, and exchanging it for his very own. Belle hadn't felt her lips being claimed by another's since Rumples flight. She could not muster the thought of him at this moment though.

For Victor's lips were delicate, and his tongue was tracing the outline of her lips, as if though they were a snowflake that would melt in the warmth of his mouth.

He compiled her into the shelves, descending book after book to flutter onto the tile. Belle couldn't hear these rummages, for she felt weightless, lifted, and at calm with Victor's arms coiled around her waist.

Kissing her till she unchained her lips one way for breath, only for Victor to mimic the notion and claimed them precisely once more.

He's been longing for this; she can feel the sleeping bud of anticipation blossoming in release among them.

"Mmm, Victor- wait" Belle gasps in his kiss, and though it's excruciating, he commands her wish and departs. She's not gleaming at him, no, merely _into_ him as though he were a glass pane.

Her brows are furrowed in some sort of dismay she's unsure whether she wishes to feel.

"I...I'm" Victor loathed to have the words of an apology come through his lips, even his teeth, because kissing this women was beyond anything he'd ever feel the slightest of remorse for.

If her lips were a sin, then he was an unholy Pandora(1)… lurking for what he did not know, and yet, could pledge he so direly needed.

They proceed in their kissing; tenderly erotic, softly tense, and ironically tragic under the circumstances.

* * *

(1_) Pandora: In Roman mythology, she was the first human woman created by the gods. She opened up a jar in which held all the evils of humanity, simply because she was curious. The thesis is by her prying and being curious provoked her to do what she was forbidden to do. _


End file.
